Rauðhetta
by The Brown-ie
Summary: Bulleta B. B. Hood has a habit of wandering into the FF12 universe, killing its demi-human inhabitants for profit.


Ultimate Stupid Crossover – Vampire Savior/FF12. FTW.

Summary: Bulleta (B. B. Hood) has a habit of wandering into the FF12 universe, killing its demi-human inhabitants for profit. Dark humor. The pacing might be quick because I was going to make it a drabble.

**Rauðhetta****:**

For the first time since the Great Exile, the Green Word was silent. It began in a far corner of the Wood; the fathomless quiet unfurling slowly as it swallowed every squawk, growl and croak from it feral inhabitants. A lone Dreamhare poked its sniffingly snout from its burrow before ducking back in. All the animals took refuge before the silence overtook them; fearful of some unknown chaos, a power more primal than their own. Even the flowers folded in on themselves, shrinking behind the twisted vines and branches. The wood was retreating upon itself, shielding itself from the encroaching still.

Not far from Eryut, the viera salve-maker, Aja, paused in her gathering when **it **came over her. She gasped, a freshly plucked flower slipping from between her spare fingers. The sounds left her ears like the sucking breath of a giant Marlboro. Twisting about, she hoped to catch any sound of Mother's voice but there was nothing in Her dark boughs.

But Aja's panic was brief.

What caught her attention then was not the Word's absence but some red bobbing into view between the branches. A small hume girl, dressed in a red cape and dress, trotted carelessly through the Woods. In the crook of her right arm, she carried an equally small dog in a wicker basket. She skipped along, seemingly unafraid of the Wood, as she passed by a particularly fierce-looking mantis; not caring as she rushed through prides of coreuls and packs of malboro.

"R-Raouhetta," she stuttered.

The viera took off, leaving her basket and harvest on the jungle floor, to warn her sisters.

**##############**

_The Word is gone, _Mjrn thought as she watched her sisters dispassionately. The Wood was overbearing: wake up and prepare for mediation at midday; gather by the springs and listen to the Wood; disperse into the Wood and protect its trees. Everyday was the same. And Jote could not understand why such a routine had driven Mjrn's thoughts to the outside world.

So, she took to watching the little ones, not caring about her elders' fearful murmurings and furrowed brows. The children continued to run up and down the stairs; chasing each other and laughing even as Aja nearly bowled them over, as she raced to Jote's hut.

**##############**

"It's _Rauðhetta_," a voice, quavering with genuine fear, rose above the rest. Jote and her counsel turned to see Aja.

Some chortled in disbelief, others sucked their teeth in distain.

"_Rauðhetta_ is a fairy tale," replied a woodwarder. "Those humes from Archades must be destroying the forest again."

"I saw her!" Aja shouted; her voice straining with every heave. "There was a hume dressed in a red cloak with gold hair, when I was looking for herbs!"

"That could be anything," a hunter grumbled. "My sister, your job is to make Vision Dust; not consume it."

"I know what I saw! She all but stood beside me!"

"A lot of these damn humes are tow-headed! It's simply another intruder!" another shouted in reply. But the other vieras shifted uneasily, heels clacking and digging into the wood boards.

"Then, let us be sure," Jote spoke, heels clinking as she rose from her seat. "In the absence of the Word, we no longer know who or what passes under Her branches."

Jote ordered Hunters and warders, form one party to scour the Wood for _Rauðhetta_ or anything else that is caused the Word to cease. She implored them to warn any other Viera you see. The others must take census of the village.

As the first group of hunters disappeared down the stairs, a strange sound, like chopped thunder, rang out. It was answered quickly by the twang of bowstrings and the thud of arrow shafts.

**##############**

Fran slept fitfully.

Silver bits ripped through Mjrn and Jote and their flesh slick and glistening, splintered off from their lanky frames. As they fell, Fran caught a glimpse of a hume between their riddled bodies. It was a female with childlike face, wrapped in red cloth. Her blue eyes caught Fran's, whose own never wavered, not even when a shard of bone flew into her watching eyes.

Her mood made Balthier even more anxious. She refused drink, food, treasure hunting and even archery practice. Fran took to pacing the grounds; stopping occasionally to glare at a point on the horizon that he could only guess might be home. Fran muttered nonsense to herself incessantly; arguing with no one but her own troubled mind.

After finally coaxing her into dinner, several strange Viera, approached them at their table at the Sandsea.

"My party and I were passing near the Wood on a hunt," said their leader as she stood across from Fran. "We noticed a Wood-Sister standing at its edge. She called out to us when we came near and said that the 'hood' returned."

Fran's ears twitched. Balthier raised a bemused brow. "The Hood, you say?"

"450 years ago," the viera continued, ignoring him. "We were expelled from our homeland and found refuge in the Golmore. But when the humes drove us out, in their employ was a hunter who sought to make a profit out of Viera."

"Her name is unknown. We simply call her '_Rauðhetta_,'" a blonde viera spoke up.

"If it's ONE hume girl, shouldn't you be able to handle her," Balthier asked. The troupe simply stared at him.

"'The Hood' is hume in appearance but she's a demon unlike any in this world. She carried weapons superior to any civilization in Ivalice," said the leader, returning to the subject. "Be careful."

Fran became worse after that. She tore out of the tavern and into the streets, lithe body weaving through the crowds as she bee-lined for the aircraft hanger. Balthier, heaving from his chase, suggested that they should visit Vaan and Penelo, who had finally returned to Rabanastre after a long hunt, rather chasing after a rumor.

"It's not a rumor, Balither," Penelo said, looking older than she ought to. She had both hands on her slim hips, brows furrowed; shaking her head and clicking her tongue. "Vaan and I came home right away. We won't let anyone harm Migelo!"

"Not that anyone would want his wrinkly hide anyway," Vaan groused. He felt put out that his partner would rather play babysitter than sky pirate. Migelo smiled as he put his arms around the two.

"You and Balthier should lay low for awhile," the old bangaa urged. "There have a series of non-hume murders going on, especially of viera."

"No more," Fran said, turning on Balthier and using her height to intimidate him. "We return. Now."

**##############**

When they entered the village, none bothered them for no one was there. The sky pirates made their way past the fountain and up the plank stairway to Jote's hut. But even her court was empty, save for Jote, stringing a worn looking bow, and Aja.

"Our sister was taken by the _Rauðhetta_," Jote spoke quietly, voice heavy as Fran approached and not bothering to look up. "She is a draugur; _our_ Mjrn no longer."

"And for this reason, you will not go after her?" she implored but Jote continued to fit her bow. The string would not quite reach, but she kept at it. Fran noted a drop of blood, small but brilliantly crimson, as it slid down the black twine. "Will you leave it to me alone again?"

Aja spoke up:

"We did go after Mjrn but she disappears every time before we could reach."

"Where are the other vieras?" Balthier asked, forgetting his place.

"With the males," Jote explained, forgetting hers. "We had no choice to seek their aid. But it seems they too have suffered much loss." She looked at Fran then. Her eyes were tired. Fran nodded.

"We go then and retrieve her together."

**##############**

As they descended the stairs, the hunting party found Mjrn standing by the abandoned fountain.

Fran ran to her side, but stopped just short. Her eyes were dull and glazed over. Looking out but seeing nothing. Cautiously, Fran grabbed her by the shoulders and drew Mjrn near.

Her scent was old. It was dry, acidic and heavy with gunpowder and blood.

The skin on Mjrn's shoulder and upper arm pulled at the touch of Fran's fingertip and became misshapen like still-soft clay.

"I wore her skin to hide from this overgrown, omnipresent weed you call 'the Wood,'" a voice, not Mjrn's, came from her body. Her mouth did not move, as if she were a ventriloquist dummy. Mjrn's face began to crease and fold as the one within began to shed her grotesque outer skin.

Fran watched in horror as the visage of her sister crumpled and piled onto the floor like discarded clothes.

Bulleta kicked away the last of Mjrn's hide from her stilts before continuing: "But it was just scared the others off. Oh, well I am pretty much done here."

"You **are** a monster," Balthier said, the sour taste coating his mouth. Aja retched, hands clasping tightly over her mouth. Bulleta simply sighed as she plopped herself on the a rail near the spring. As she began to undo her stilts, she said:

"No, just rich: Bangaas make good leather and their jerked flesh is a tasty treat. Seeq fat is best for candles. Their horns and teeth, surprisingly, make good medicines too. And Garif are only good for their masks. But no one wants Moogles for some odd reason; though I thought they make cute stuffed animals."

"And Viera?" Fran asked darkly.

"Viera are great for everything: Dead - you make fine wigs, fur trimmings (The ears are popular costume item, I might add.); the magical properties of your flesh, bones and bloods always fetch a high price. Alive - you are, at best, courtesans, though some would have salve-makers create 'Vision Dust' for dream-weed dens." She dusted her apron, slipped her red shoes on.

"You're worse than any hume!" Jote shrieked as she fitted her bow. Aja and Fran readied theirs as well. Balthiers finger was steady against his trigger.

"No," Bulleta said lazily as she smoothly slid a clip into her beloved uzzi. "Simply a hume at its worse."

A/N:

Rauðhetta is Icelandic for "Red Hood" (Little Red Riding Hood).

Draugur is Icelandic for ghost/specter.

The director of Vampire Savior said that even though Bulleta was NOT a monster, she was on par with them because of her overwhelming greed.

I couldn't kill moogles.

I love Fran and Mjrn. I just felt like writing something morbid.


End file.
